


Everything You Ask

by zahnie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Powers (Supernatural), Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gun Violence, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pre-Relationship, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 04, understatement of the year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahnie/pseuds/zahnie
Summary: Castiel kills John Winchester.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Everything You Ask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenmonstermash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmonstermash/gifts).



> Set in an AU of season 4 where John is still alive (at the beginning of the fic anyway).
> 
> Part of a fic-for-art trade with a friend! They're so talented, I'm so excited <3 The summary is the prompt they gave me and I'm very pleased with how well it came out!
> 
> All of my Supernatural fics are gifted to greenmonstermash, even the ones I originally write for other people <3 <3 I never thought I'd write any SPN fic and so years ago, I jokingly said all of them would be her fault :D Invaluable help brainstorming as always, thank you!
> 
> Also, thanks to Laura for reading this out loud to me and your lovely thoughts <3
> 
> The song I played the most while writing this was [Breathe Into Me by Red](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0CRRoDYqOc) (the vibe more than the lyrics, tho they ARE very Destiel lyrics)

Dean throws holy water in his father's face. Dad splutters and coughs as some of it goes up his nose. There's no other effect. Dean's last desperate hope that this isn't Dad, that Dad _wouldn't do this_ , dies.

“Get out of my way, Dean,” Dad says. His voice is low and cold.

“Dad, stop, please!” Dean begs. Behind his back, he scrabbles around on Bobby's desk, blindly looking for a weapon, a phone, anything.

“Don't you tell me what to do. You failed me,” Dad says.

The injustice of his words pushes through Dean's shock. “What? I've done _everything_ you've ever asked me!”

Dad shakes his head. “You didn't kill Sam. Two years ago, I told you to. He's too dangerous.”

“No!” Dean yells. “He isn't! He's still your son!”

Dad levels the shotgun at Dean's chest. Dean freezes. “Not anymore. He's tainted,” Dad says.

Dean raises his hands slowly so Dad can see them. “All my life, you told me to take care of Sammy,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice steady. “So, here I am. That's what I'm doing.”

Dad steps forward. Dean instinctively leans back against the desk. Nowhere he can go that won't leave Dad an opening to get around Dean to where Sam is hiding. Dean can't hear him gasping in pain anymore.

Dad looks like he's about to speak. Instead, he brings the shotgun around and hits out at Dean. Dean's arms go up to ward it off. The blow lands on his right forearm. There's a cracking sound when it connects. Dean cries out. The pain is like lightning. He falls to his knees, his legs suddenly unable to hold him up.

Dad stands over him. “Pathetic,” he spits.

Memories of childhood hit Dean like another blow. He remembers this feeling of total helplessness. It's worse than the pain.

“One hit and you're on the floor,” Dad says, disgusted. “Didn't I teach you better than that?”

Dean makes a sudden grab for the gun with his good hand. A brief tug-of-war and Dad tosses it aside.

Dad draws a knife from his belt. With a horrible sinking feeling, Dean recognizes it. Ruby's knife. The knife that can kill demons. “No,” he gasps, barely able to get the word out.

Dad smiles grimly. “I have to be sure.”

He's going to kill Sam. He's really going to do it. Dean opens his mouth to tell Dad he'll have to kill Dean first.

Dad stiffens and blue light explodes from his eye sockets. He falls to the floor. As he drops, Castiel is revealed, staring into Dean's eyes, like he could see Dean all along. Maybe he could.

“Cas?” Dean asks, bewildered.

The angel's blue eyes are intense. His face is sterner than usual. Cas takes a step forward and crouches in front of Dean. “I am here,” he says.

Dean blinks. “What—” He looks around Cas to where Dad is lying on the floor. With his eyes burned out. Not breathing.

Cas touching his arm refocuses Dean's attention. Dean hisses as the familiar heat of Cas' angelic Grace starts healing the broken bone.

A breath later, Dean remembers. “Hey, save your juice. Sam needs it more,” he tells Cas.

Cas tilts his head. Dean used to think it meant he was confused but Cas does it so often that Dean isn't sure anymore.

“Sam!” Dean calls. He starts to struggle to his feet. Cas' eyebrows come together in a frown but he helps Dean stand.

Cas stays too close as they round the corner of the desk. Sam is lying there scarily still. One leg of his jeans is soaked in blood around the tourniquet made from his belt.

“Oh god. Sammy!” Dean cries. He almost falls in his hurry to check Sam's breathing and pulse. Cas crouches to lay his hands on the wound.

Sam's eyes fly open. He gasps, half-sitting up. Dean grabs his brother's shoulders, ignoring the spike of pain from his half-healed arm. “Hey, you're okay. Cas is healing you.”

“Dean?” Sam asks, blearily. “What happened?” His eyes widen as he remembers. Dean wishes he could take the memory away.

“Dad... shot me,” Sam says slowly. Then, he flinches violently. “Aaah, that hurts!”

Dean turns on Cas, who is inches away. “What's happening?”

“The demon blood is reacting to my Grace,” Cas says without looking at Dean, his teeth clenched. He makes a pushing motion with his hands, like he's trying to force more light into Sam's leg.

“Well, that doesn't sound good!” Dean snaps.

Cas' head jerks up. His blue eyes seem to burn. “You asked me to heal him so that's what I am doing,” he says, his voice frustrated.

Sam cries out again. He clutches at Dean.

Behind them, the front door bangs open. “What in the hell is going on?!” Bobby calls.

Dean remembers his father's body on the floor with a sickening jolt. Before he can figure out how to answer Bobby, another awful cry comes out of Sam. Dean hears Bobby running across the room and he appears a second later.

Dean looks up and whatever Bobby sees in his face makes him flinch. “Sweet Jesus,” Bobby mutters, staring at Sam.

Cas sits back on his heels, his hands bloody. “The wound is sealed. Anything more will hurt him more than it will help.”

Sam's breathing is ragged but he nods. “I can finish the old-fashioned way,” he gasps.

In answer, Cas hands Sam something small and red. The bullet.

Sam stares at it in his own bloody palm. Dean wants to take the thing away, to throw it across the room, but he can't move.

After a long moment, Sam announces, “I'm gonna be sick.”

“Come here then,” Bobby says, bending down quickly to help Sam to his feet. “Better to do that in the bathroom.”

Dean starts to get up too, and stops when Cas touches him. “Dean,” he says, intensely.

Before Dean can respond, he feels the fire of Cas' Grace flowing into him again. Dean sighs in relief as the pain in his arm disappears, closing his eyes for a second.

Cas' hand doesn't withdraw when the healing is over. Dean opens his eyes. Cas is staring at him.

It's always... unsettling. Dean should be used to it by now. He can't shake the feeling that Cas isn't looking at _him_ when he stares like that but at Dean's soul. All of the terrible things Dean has done, on Earth and in Hell, spread out for the angel to see.

Dean shrugs Cas' hand off, turns away. He grabs the edge of the desk to pull himself to his feet. When he's standing, Dean can see the body.

“Dean,” Cas says again.

Dean doesn't respond. Dad's dead. Cas _killed_ him.

He doesn't see Cas walk over but he's there, bending down to touch Dad's body. Then, they both disappear.

Dean clutches the desk for balance. Cas is back in an instant, standing beside Dean now. Too close, like usual.

“Where did you take him?” Dean asks, his voice a little shaky.

“It doesn't matter,” Cas answers firmly.

Dean opens his mouth to say it _does_ matter, that's his _father_. But bile fills his throat and he has to swallow it down instead. He leans on the desk.

It happened so fast. Dad came in, angry but cold with it. Dean knows that kind is more dangerous. He and Sam were researching, here, in this room. More ways to stop Lilith breaking enough seals to free Lucifer. And Sam stood up to go greet Dad, and Dad had the shotgun but Dean never thought he'd _use_ it. Dean was closer to Dad, distracted him while Sam crawled behind the desk, stood in his way. Watched him die.

Dean takes a deep breath. He looks around the room, everywhere but at Cas. Ruby's knife catches his eye. It's halfway under the couch, where it must've slid after Dad dropped it.

Dad had the knife. He had the knife and the gun and Bobby wasn't here. Dean wasn't going to be in the house either, Baby's engine has a rattle he doesn't like, but Sam was talking his ear off about some lore he found so Dean got sucked in for longer than he thought. Which means Dad planned this.

“He planned this,” Dean says out loud.

He isn't really talking to Cas, but Cas is still here so he asks, “How do you know?”

Dean points to the knife. Cas wanders over to look, though he doesn't touch it.

Somehow, it's easier to speak when Cas is across the room. “Thanks,” Dean says.

Cas turns. His expression doesn't change.

“For saving Sam,” Dean clarifies. “He would've... so thanks.”

“I didn't do it for Sam,” Cas says.

Dean tenses. Fight or flight, he isn't sure which.

“He hurt you,” Cas says, his eyes blazing.

Dean's mouth falls open in shock.

Cas shakes his head. “Not just today. Before, I didn't understand. Family isn't—” He gestures like he can't find the words.

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean demands. “You killed my father because he _hurt me_?”

“He did it on purpose!” Cas snaps.

“A lot of people hurt me on purpose! It's a part of life!” Dean yells. His mind is reeling.

“No!” The lights flicker and the windows rattle a little. Cas steps forward. Shadows rise behind him. It must be a trick of the light. “Dean, listen to me!”

His heart is hammering, adrenaline surging through his body. Dean stares at Cas.

Cas' voice is quieter but somehow even more intense. “Your father hurt you to control you, not because you deserve it. You are a good man, in spite of him.”

Dean can't handle this. It's too much. “And you're trying to control me too!” he snarls, lashing out. “If I died, you'd have to go to Hell to get me back because of the _plans_ Heaven has for me!”

Cas glares at him. “Those plans would change. I don't have the strength to bring you back on my own.” His hands clench into fists. “And I am _trying_ to tell you: you wouldn't go to Hell again. You're a good man.”

“I don't believe you,” Dean says, his stomach a cold knot.

“You still have no faith,” Cas sighs, his hands relaxing. He tilts his head suddenly, like he hears something.

“What?” Dean asks, going tense again.

“I am summoned. We're beginning another attack,” Cas says, then meets Dean's eyes. “If you call for me, I will come.”

He disappears with a faint whoosh of invisible wings. The room feels so empty without him.

Dean collapses onto the couch and puts his head in his hands. He can't think. It's all too much.

Footsteps in the hall make Dean look up. “What's the verdict?” Bobby asks from the doorway.

“He had to go,” Dean says, numb.

After a long pause, Bobby says, “Sam's asking for you.”

Dean stands. As he passes, Bobby lays his hand on Dean's shoulder. “You did everything you could.”

Dean doesn't know how to respond. Bobby pats him once and moves away.

In the spare room, Sam's in bed. He starts pushing back the covers when he sees Dean in the doorway.

Dean quickly pulls them back and sits on the edge of the bed, anchoring Sam under the blankets. It's an old trick from when they were kids.

Sam sighs but he doesn't fight. “Dean, what happened?”

“Cas killed Dad,” Dean says.

Sam exhales. “Oh. How?”

“Just... with his hand. The opposite of healing, I guess.” It's weird to think about Cas healing Dean and Sam right after doing that to their father.

“I'm sorry,” Sam blurts out. He's gripping the blanket hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

“ _No_ ,” Dean says. His voice comes out harsher than he intended, and he clears his throat. “It isn't your fault.”

“The demon blood—” Sam starts but Dean cuts him off.

“No. Come on, Sammy. Even before all that Ruby shit when I was gone, Dad was...” Dean gestures, trying to find the words. “Like he was still fighting Yellow Eyes, even though we got him.” Dean sometimes wonders if that car accident a few years ago gave Dad some kind of brain damage. It was right before checking out of the hospital that Dad told Dean to kill Sam. They kept Sam being psychic a secret from Dad on purpose but he must've found out about that _and_ all the shit with Ruby. Dad wasn't homicidal the last time they saw him, though he was still angry with Dean for going to Hell.

They sit there in silence. Finally, Sam says, quietly, “I'm glad you didn't have to kill him.”

Dean never would've done it. He would've let Dad kill him instead. “Yeah.” He stands up. “Need anything?”

Sam shakes his head. He still has that guilty look in his eyes but Dean can't deal with it right now.

“Rest up,” he says, like Sam has the flu or something, and leaves the room.

In Bobby's living room, Dean pours himself a drink. He stares at the blood stains on the floor and tries not to think about all the things he can't tell Sam.


End file.
